Great poem.
Still I Rise
by Maya Angelou
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
Monday, February 27, 2012
This resonates in me sometimes...
Alone
by Edgar Allan Poe
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
by Edgar Allan Poe
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
I love Rumi, and his quotes. So inspirational.
What is your life about, anyway?
Nothing but a struggle to be someone.
Nothing but a running from your own silence.
Rumi
Only the soul knows what Infinite LOVE is.
Rumi
The time has come to turn your heart into a temple of fire.
Rumi
How long will you think about this painful life?
How long will you think about this harmful world?
The only thing it can take from you is your body.
Don't say all this rubbish and stop thinking.
Rumi
There is a community of the spirit.
Join it, and feel the delight of walking
in the noisy street and being the noise.
Rumi
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
I Wouldn’t Thank You for a Valentine (Feature Poem)
I Wouldn’t Thank You for a Valentine
by Liz Lochhead
I wouldn’t thank you for a Valentine
I won’t wake up early wondering if the postman’s been.
Should 10 red-padded satin hearts arrive with sticky sickly saccharine
Sentiments in very vulgar verses I wouldn’t wonder if you meant them.
Two dozen anonymous Interflora red roses?
I’d not bother to swither over who sent them!
I wouldn’t thank you for a Valentine.
Scrawl SWALK across the envelope
I’d just say ‘ Same Auld story
I canny be bothered deciphering it –
I’m up to hear with Amore!
The whole Valentine’s Day Thing is trivial and commercial,
A cue for unleashing clichés and candyheart motifs to which I personally am not partial.’
Take more than singing Telegrams, or pints of Chanel Five, or sweets,
To get me ordering oysters or ironing my black satin sheets.
I wouldn’t thank you for a Valentine
If you sent me a solitaire and promises solemn,
Took out an ad in the Guardian Personal Column
Saying something very soppy such as ‘Who Loves Ya, Poo?
I’ll tell you, I do, Fozzy bear, that’s who!’
You’d entirely fail to charm me, in fact I’d detest it
I wouldn’t be eighteen again for anything, I’m glad I’m past it.
I wouldn’t thank you for a Valentine
If you sent me a single orchid, or a pair of Janet Reger’s in a heart-shaped box and declared your Love Eternal
I’d say I’d rather not be caught dead in them they were politically suspect and I’d rather something thermal.
If you hired a plane and blazed our love in a banner across the skies;
If you bought me something flimsy in a flatteringly wrong size;
If you sent me a postcard with three Xs and told me how you felt
I wouldn’t thank you, I’d melt.
by Liz Lochhead
I wouldn’t thank you for a Valentine
I won’t wake up early wondering if the postman’s been.
Should 10 red-padded satin hearts arrive with sticky sickly saccharine
Sentiments in very vulgar verses I wouldn’t wonder if you meant them.
Two dozen anonymous Interflora red roses?
I’d not bother to swither over who sent them!
I wouldn’t thank you for a Valentine.
Scrawl SWALK across the envelope
I’d just say ‘ Same Auld story
I canny be bothered deciphering it –
I’m up to hear with Amore!
The whole Valentine’s Day Thing is trivial and commercial,
A cue for unleashing clichés and candyheart motifs to which I personally am not partial.’
Take more than singing Telegrams, or pints of Chanel Five, or sweets,
To get me ordering oysters or ironing my black satin sheets.
I wouldn’t thank you for a Valentine
If you sent me a solitaire and promises solemn,
Took out an ad in the Guardian Personal Column
Saying something very soppy such as ‘Who Loves Ya, Poo?
I’ll tell you, I do, Fozzy bear, that’s who!’
You’d entirely fail to charm me, in fact I’d detest it
I wouldn’t be eighteen again for anything, I’m glad I’m past it.
I wouldn’t thank you for a Valentine
If you sent me a single orchid, or a pair of Janet Reger’s in a heart-shaped box and declared your Love Eternal
I’d say I’d rather not be caught dead in them they were politically suspect and I’d rather something thermal.
If you hired a plane and blazed our love in a banner across the skies;
If you bought me something flimsy in a flatteringly wrong size;
If you sent me a postcard with three Xs and told me how you felt
I wouldn’t thank you, I’d melt.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Feature Poem
I dream, and see all shades of rainbow. I wake, and its my hand holding the blanket, imagining, in the early hours of dawn for it to be yours. x
I Love You
by Sara Teasdale
When April bends above me
And finds me fast asleep,
Dust need not keep the secret
A live heart died to keep.
When April tells the thrushes,
The meadow-larks will know,
And pipe the three words lightly
To all the winds that blow.
Above his roof the swallows,
In notes like far-blown rain,
Will tell the little sparrow
Beside his window-pane.
O sparrow, little sparrow,
When I am fast asleep,
Then tell my love the secret
That I have died to keep.
I Love You
by Sara Teasdale
When April bends above me
And finds me fast asleep,
Dust need not keep the secret
A live heart died to keep.
When April tells the thrushes,
The meadow-larks will know,
And pipe the three words lightly
To all the winds that blow.
Above his roof the swallows,
In notes like far-blown rain,
Will tell the little sparrow
Beside his window-pane.
O sparrow, little sparrow,
When I am fast asleep,
Then tell my love the secret
That I have died to keep.
'Thoughts'
Last night I went to the QPAC with my sister to watch the Queensland Symphony Orchestra play Beethoven. It must've been 2 years since I last saw the symphony, and I'm glad to have experienced it again. Everyone there seems to be of the well-mannered demographic of people, in that they are there to enjoy refined music (that sensuates the soul), dressed in civilised fashion, and just a decent bunch of people. Makes me realise how far astray I have gone, hanging around nightclubs, for too long. I've taken up tai classes, dancing classes, church groups, which are groups that I would assimilate better with.
After the show I went over to Brad's house to have a chat; and realised I would probably be on the higher achievement levels of aspergers, if ever, I do have it; despite my initial hysteria of thinking I have asprgers, it's an umbrella term, it encompasses a wide variety of behaviours; that apparently one in 5 people in Australia have. It's a label- it does not define me- it does not control or dictate who I am. My negative issues with social interaction have long dissipated since my early years, and as an adult, i have developed a high and strong ability to interact socially; despite my initial 'slitting wrist' thoughts of looking back at my traumatised childhood, this is now, this is myself now.
In terms of the fixation with interests, I have come to realise that I am a very passionate person, at everything I want to achieve in; what's the point in doing things in halves? If you're going to start something you want to aspire to you bloody well try your darnest hardest to achieve highly. I think there needs to be passion, otherwise, what is the purpose of you being on this earth? One has to make a difference for the better. And it really gives me the shits when I see mundane people, or people with a sense of 'don't give a shit' about anything attitude, whether it be towards their career, relationships, study, and I have so many friends who are like that, who are content with just being half-arsed. What the hell do you think you're going to get from life if that's your mindset. It pisses me off.
But I want to do more. I think everything in my life is falling in place as it should be. I have a stable career, focused goals and passions i.e. soccer, piano, poetry; I am in good health, my values and beliefs are maturing as an adult; I am progressing in my social skills, regardless of my moping attitude in regards to my shithouse childhood experiences with the socialisation process- it's all falling into place well (I tend to be a negative bastard sometimes). All i want really is for someone to share it with. I'm still desperately hungry for knowledge, with a soul that wants to embrace it all.
After the show I went over to Brad's house to have a chat; and realised I would probably be on the higher achievement levels of aspergers, if ever, I do have it; despite my initial hysteria of thinking I have asprgers, it's an umbrella term, it encompasses a wide variety of behaviours; that apparently one in 5 people in Australia have. It's a label- it does not define me- it does not control or dictate who I am. My negative issues with social interaction have long dissipated since my early years, and as an adult, i have developed a high and strong ability to interact socially; despite my initial 'slitting wrist' thoughts of looking back at my traumatised childhood, this is now, this is myself now.
In terms of the fixation with interests, I have come to realise that I am a very passionate person, at everything I want to achieve in; what's the point in doing things in halves? If you're going to start something you want to aspire to you bloody well try your darnest hardest to achieve highly. I think there needs to be passion, otherwise, what is the purpose of you being on this earth? One has to make a difference for the better. And it really gives me the shits when I see mundane people, or people with a sense of 'don't give a shit' about anything attitude, whether it be towards their career, relationships, study, and I have so many friends who are like that, who are content with just being half-arsed. What the hell do you think you're going to get from life if that's your mindset. It pisses me off.
But I want to do more. I think everything in my life is falling in place as it should be. I have a stable career, focused goals and passions i.e. soccer, piano, poetry; I am in good health, my values and beliefs are maturing as an adult; I am progressing in my social skills, regardless of my moping attitude in regards to my shithouse childhood experiences with the socialisation process- it's all falling into place well (I tend to be a negative bastard sometimes). All i want really is for someone to share it with. I'm still desperately hungry for knowledge, with a soul that wants to embrace it all.
Feature Poem
I have always admired Sara Teasdale's ability to write so succintly, yet so evocatively, kinda like the principles of what haikuists try to achieve. I grew up reading Teasdale, among the other classical poets, Wordsworth, Shakespeare, Poe; and it's strange how the lady in classical literature is less recognised; goes to show you how anti-feminist it was back then. All the while still, her words are appreciated to this day, "I am not yours" by Sara Teasdale.
"I am not yours"
I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.
You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.
Oh plunge me deep in love -- put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.
Sara Teasdale
"I am not yours"
I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.
You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.
Oh plunge me deep in love -- put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.
Sara Teasdale
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Haiku
in love again
the moon
seems brighter
candlelit glow
wishing you
goodnight
she love me
she loves me not--
one more petal to pick
love letter
so warm
it curls
autumn light...
in everything
I see
the moon
seems brighter
candlelit glow
wishing you
goodnight
she love me
she loves me not--
one more petal to pick
love letter
so warm
it curls
autumn light...
in everything
I see
Feature poem
The feature poem today is "I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz" by Pablo Neruda. I'm very excited about someone :-)
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
